“I can’t go.”
“Of course you can. Your suitcase is in the trunk, and everything is arranged. Don’t be stubborn, Scarlet. Take a weekend away and enjoy yourself. It’s not going to kill you. How often do you get an all-expenses-paid weekend away?”
The vehicle came to a halt, and Kristin fumbled with the handle to get out.
She didn’t ever get a vacation. It wasn’t the way her life worked. She couldn’t just fly off to Vegas at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t that she didn’t desperately want to go. In fact, she’d come close to giving in to Mara’s persuasion and asking her dad if he could cover Shamrock’s for the weekend. But she knew she was going to have to tend the bar. It wasn’t a good weekend for her to be away.
Besides, there was her other embarrassing problem . . .
She scrambled to get out of the car, but Julian blocked her exit. “You can’t run away now. We’re at the airport.”
Gritting her teeth, she told him angrily, “Let. Me. Out.”
“Kristin? What’s wrong?”
Panicked, she started to claw at the door. “Hurry. Let me out. Please.”
Julian opened the door and got out, grabbing her by the arm and then quickly pulling her from the car.
Kristin gulped for air, oblivious to the cold. “Shit!”
“What the hell is wrong?” Julian asked, sounding confused.
Kristin didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Turning to avoid Julian, she promptly bent over with her hands on her knees and started to vomit.
CHAPTER 3
“Is she comfortable now?”
“I think so,” Julian mumbled into the phone, answering his cousin Dante’s wife, Sarah, who was a physician in Amesport. His cousin and his wife were already in Vegas for Micah’s wedding. Sarah had been the first person he’d called the minute he realized Kristin was sick. “She ate, and she’s had a dose of Dramamine. She says she’s feeling better.”
“Good. We’ll see you soon,” Sarah answered happily. “I’m so glad you’re bringing Kristin. She could use a break from Amesport. I tried to convince her. We all did. You must be more persuasive than we are.”
Julian couldn’t help but feel remorseful as he thought about how Kristin had looked sitting in the airplane seat after he’d carried her on board. She’d been pale and weak, her usual spunky attitude gone, which he’d actually missed. Seeing her sick and defeated had eaten at him. After he’d fed her, she’d slunk away quietly with her suitcase to clean up. Shit! Maybe she had gained some color after eating and taking some medication. Maybe she wasn’t puking her guts out anymore, but he still felt like an ass. How in the hell could he have known that she suffered from motion sickness? He’d never traveled with her before.
Why hadn’t she said anything as soon as they’d gotten in the car?
“Is it safe? I mean, will she get sick again?” he asked, not wanting to miss anything that would help Kristin to feel better.
“I doubt it,” Sarah replied, talking louder because of the casino background noise. “Make sure she keeps getting small meals with lots of protein, and give her two more tablets in four hours. It’s a long flight.”
Julian knew it would take more than four hours for them to land in Vegas. “Okay. Anything else?” he asked anxiously.
“That’s it. She’ll be fine, Julian. You sound stressed. Motion sickness isn’t fatal. If she’s feeling better, you can get going.”
Easy for Sarah to say. She was a damned physician. Julian had never felt so helpless as he’d stood and supported Kristin’s limp body while she’d been throwing up, continuing to heave even after she’d emptied what little was in her stomach.
He and Sarah hung up after he’d gotten the itinerary for the wedding plans the next day.
Impatiently, he drummed his fingers on the wood table in front of him, watching the door to the bedroom after he’d given the pilot permission to start rolling.
Where in the hell is she? What if she’s sick again?
He rose and strode to the back of his private jet where the bedroom was, wondering if he should knock on the bathroom door.
Glancing around the bedroom, he saw Kristin’s suitcase on the bed, open and obviously searched through for something to wear.